Chapter 6

WEDNESDAY, MAY 13

7:38 P.M.

HALL OF JUSTICE, MAGIX HEADQUARTERS

I watched the fifteen committee members shuffle out of the room in single file, wishing there was one more thing I could say to convince them of my innocence. It wasn’t hard to guess which verdict they’d reach. Seemed to me like most of them had made up their minds that I was guilty before they’d even met me.

I gripped the armrests of my chair, resisting the emotions that threatened to overtake me. I actually thought I was alone in the big room until Mr. Lawden stepped in front of me.

Wordlessly, he dropped to one knee and pulled the magical shoe off my foot. I secretly hoped that my sock stunk, and that he had to smell it. Then, to my surprise, I felt him sliding on my ordinary shoe.

Frank Lawden rose slowly, his knee cracking as he sighed wearily. “I don’t think they’ll be long,” he said. “Can I get you a glass of water?”

“Not thirsty,” I spat.

“Maybe something from the vending machine?”

“Why are you being nice to me?” I asked flatly.

He turned to look at me, dark eyes frightfully sincere. “It’s what Magix stands for,” he said. “We’re servants of goodness. Servants of the magic.” As he spoke, he stepped over to the large thermometer standing on the pedestal in the center of the floor.

“I think that thing’s broken,” I said.

“Oh?”

“If it were thirty-five degrees in here, we’d all be freezing,” I pointed out.

Frank Lawden smiled. “This thermometer doesn’t measure the temperature.” He ran his hand carefully along its edge. “It’s a boon.”

“Neat,” I said sarcastically, hoping I sounded as uninterested as I really was.

“It measures the level of the magic core,” he said. “Little acts of goodness around the world cause the level to rise bit by bit. Ordinary people, Ignorant of magic, being kind to one another, helping each other, creating amazing things . . . those are what fuel the magic core deep under the earth’s surface.”

“And then an awful criminal like me comes along and probably makes the level drop,” I said bitterly.

“No, actually,” he said, “the magic core can’t go down. It can only rise. Sure, there are plenty of bad people in the world, doing horrible things. But the bad going on out there doesn’t diminish the goodness in the world. Goodness stands on its own, and it will always cause the magic to rise to the boiling point.”

“Technically, it can’t,” I said. “Water boils at 212 degrees Fahrenheit, and your little thermometer only goes up to 140.” I smirked at him. “Even criminals can pay attention in science class.”

“The boiling point is just an expression we use,” said Lawden. “The magic core will rise until it reaches 140. Then it’ll be ready to spill out into the world.”

“And that’s how more boons are made?” I said, checking him against what Avery had told me.

Mr. Lawden nodded. “At 140 degrees, the magic is ready. The next person out there in the world to commit an act of pure goodness will cause the magic to come out. It’ll trickle down through that person’s past, filling up objects that they’ve touched. Objects that once meant something special to them. A music box, a shoe . . . I’ve learned not to judge what items held value in a person’s life.”

“Right,” I said. “You just judge the person.”

“That’s not my job,” he said. “I merely presented the facts as we understand them. The committee is responsible for determining what happens next.”

“But what do you think?” I asked. “Do you really think I’m guilty? Do you really think I could pull off the biggest magic theft in twenty years when I didn’t even know about magic? I’m thirteen years old. What does your gut tell you?”

Frank Lawden didn’t say anything for a moment, seeming deep in thought. When he finally turned to answer, he was interrupted by the chamber door opening on squeaky hinges. Mr. Lawden closed his mouth, tucked the magic shoe under one arm, and took his place at the podium.

I remained in my seat, watching the fifteen committee members file in and sit down. When they were settled, Mr. Lawden raised his voice.

“The senior-most committee member is selected as spokesperson,” he said, gesturing to a woman with gray hair to match her suit. “Ms. Harmon. The floor is yours.”

The woman stood slowly and made her way down the stairs until she stopped beside the boon thermometer.

“For the record,” she began. “On this day, the thirteenth of May, at seven forty-five in the evening, the Magix Committee finds Mason Mortimer Morrison . . . guilty.”

The word was like a giant sledgehammer pounding me down into my seat. I wanted to jump up and run out of there. I wanted to scream in her face defiantly. Instead, I just trembled, shaking like the room really was 35 degrees.

“The evidences provided against him are plentiful and conclusive,” continued Ms. Harmon. “From the complete theft of the boon facility to the transportation of his entire class using an illegal music box, Mason Mortimer Morrison has proven himself a cunning and dangerous criminal. As such, we, the Magix Committee, find it necessary to conduct a full and total memory wipe.”

“What?” I yelled, leaping to my feet. “What does that mean?”

“Please be seated,” said Mr. Lawden.

“No way!” I screamed. “What does that mean?”

“It means we will use a special boon to erase all of your memories, starting at birth to the present day,” said Ms. Harmon. “You will retain many of your basic abilities—motor skills, speech—but you will have no recollection of who you were. An accident will be staged, after which you will wake up in a hospital. We often assign new identities in these situations, but we will allow your mother to claim you, although you will not remember anything about her.”

“You can’t do this!” I cried. “It’s not fair!”

“It’s a completely painless process,” she said. “Or so I’m told.”

“Have you done this to a lot of people?” I asked, horrified to hear the answer.

“Magix performs memory wipes around the world on a weekly basis,” she answered. “Most of those are done on Ignorant civilians who accidentally notice an Educated activating a magical boon. In such cases, the memory is isolated and can be removed individually.”

“Then why won’t you do that to me?” I begged. “Back up to last month. To the day before the boon church was robbed. Just erase my memory up till then.”

“That option was discussed among the committee,” Ms. Harmon said. “However, we have no way of knowing when you first gained knowledge of true magic. And with your criminal record, we cannot release you back into the world with the possibility that you could strike again. A full and total memory wipe is the only way to be sure you will not continue your life of crime.”

“That’s insane!” I called. “You people are all insane!” I whirled on Frank Lawden, but he was staring down at his feet uncomfortably. “You’re so proud of your organization being founded on goodness. But this is pure cruelty!”

“This is necessary to preserve the future of magic,” snapped Ms. Harmon. “You should be grateful that we’re releasing you at all. That we’re not keeping you locked up in the basement like—”

“That’s enough, Linda,” Mr. Lawden finally spoke. “When will the procedure take place?”

“Nine thirty tomorrow morning,” said Ms. Harmon. “We’ll take the boy to the laboratory on the third floor.”

I suddenly felt dizzy, and I slumped back into my chair. Was this really happening? Why? How?

Ms. Harmon turned and made her way back up to her seat on the raised platform.

“We’ll have security escort you to a holding room,” Mr. Lawden said to me. He slapped his hand against the podium. “Dismissed.”